The Crystal's Whisper and The Wind's Embrace

Chapter 55: Breath in the Shadows

The demon's claws came crashing down like a guillotine. Tsukiyo's eyes widened—but before the strike could land, a violent gust of wind exploded between her and the monster.

"Wind Breathing, Fifth Form: Cold Mountain Wind!"

Sanemi's blade howled through the air, slicing upward and cleaving through the demon's wrist. Black blood sprayed in an arc, sizzling as it struck the earth. The creature screamed, recoiling, its dismembered limb thrashing on the ground like a dying serpent.

Sanemi was in front of her in the blink of an eye, crouched protectively, his back to her, breath ragged.

"You alright?" he growled, not turning his head.

Tsukiyo forced herself upright, her shoulder throbbing. "I'm fine," she said through gritted teeth, snatching up her sword with her uninjured arm.

The demon was already recovering, its missing limb beginning to regenerate—faster than normal.

"It's healing too quickly," Sanemi muttered. "Upper-Rank blood?"

"No. I've seen this before." Tsukiyo's eyes narrowed, her pulse still hammering. "These demons... they're marked."

As if summoned by her words, a thin, crimson brand glowed on the demon's chest—twisted kanji that shimmered unnaturally beneath its skin. It sneered, lips curling over rows of jagged teeth.

"You two are quite the pair," it hissed. "But your reunion will end here."

Before either of them could respond, it launched forward again, the earth cracking beneath its force.

Tsukiyo moved in tandem with Sanemi, their blades crossing in synchronized arcs. She shifted low, her feet skimming the ground as she danced beneath the demon's attack.

"Crystal Breathing, Third Form: Sapphire Cascade!"

A wave of razor-edged shards burst from her blade, slamming into the demon's legs. It howled and stumbled.

Sanemi was already airborne.

"Wind Breathing, Fourth Form: Rising Dust Storm!"

His blade came down like a meteor, slashing clean across the demon's neck—deep, but not fatal. The monster writhed, lurching back, its limbs flailing with unrelenting fury.

Tsukiyo landed beside him, panting. "It's not going down easy."

"It will," Sanemi muttered, eyes sharp. "But we need to work as one."

She looked at him—really looked—and for the first time, she saw not just the brutal warrior, not just the rage. She saw the trust behind his words. The unwavering faith in her.

She nodded.

The demon rushed again, roaring.

Tsukiyo sprinted to the left, distracting its gaze. "Over here, ugly!"

Sanemi circled to the right.

"Crystal Breathing, Sixth Form: Diamond Drill!"

Tsukiyo's blade gleamed like a comet as she charged, her energy focusing into a spiraling point of force. She aimed for the demon's torso, keeping its attention locked on her.

The moment her blade connected, the demon shrieked—but didn't fall.

That was when Sanemi struck from behind.

"Wind Breathing, Seventh Form: Gale, Sudden Gusts!"

A cyclone burst forth from his blade, amplified by the force of Tsukiyo's drill. Their combined assault sent the demon's body hurtling backward—straight into a collapsing shrine wall, where it crashed in a mangled heap.

It didn't rise.

Ash scattered into the air, settling on Tsukiyo's skin like silent snow.

They stood amidst the wreckage, both breathless, blood-splattered, backs heaving.

The silence returned.

For a moment, there was only the sound of the wind rustling through the trees and the distant hush of the village.

"You okay?" Sanemi asked again, this time his voice quieter.

Tsukiyo turned toward him, her gaze tired but steady. "I will be."

She winced and cradled her shoulder. Sanemi reached forward without a word, tugging her kimono gently aside just enough to inspect the wound. His touch was rough but careful.

"Not deep," he muttered, tying a piece of cloth around the gash with practiced ease.

She watched him in silence, then asked, "You're not going to yell at me for almost dying?"

He grunted. "Not when you handled it like that."

A flicker of a smile ghosted across her lips.

Then she remembered—the villager.

She turned quickly. "The man—"

But the old man was gone.

Only a dark smear of blood where he'd collapsed remained.

And next to it, freshly scratched into the earth, were two haunting kanji: "Feast" and "Consume."

Sanemi's jaw tightened. "They left a message."

Tsukiyo stared at the markings, dread settling in her chest.

"This wasn't random," she whispered. "They were sent."

The weight of it pressed down on them both. Muzan was moving.

And from the edge of the ruined shrine, watching from the trees with eyes that had once been gentle and human.